


Interrogation

by thewritingkoala



Category: The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager (TV) RPF, The Night Manager - Jean Le Carré, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Andrew Birch - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Corky - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Smut, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Spying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7827529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jonathan Pine (as Andrew Birch) steps in to rescue a suspect tortured by Roper's goons, he's in for a big surprise. Interrogation turns into something much hotter when Pine and Daisy give in to sexual tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was written for the SSS (Sunday Smut Spotlight) on Tumblr, the week's theme being "Interrogation". This is my first Pine fic, so bear with me.

“Tabby, Frisky, old chums, get out here for a minute.”  
Roper poked his head into the interrogation cell, completely unfazed by the sight within, whereas Jonathan felt nauseous. The two burly men walked out after a moment, mumbling and muttering. His glance flickered to Tabby’s bloody hand and away, shutting off his mind when it came up with images of gruesome torture methods.  
Roper handed Tabby a brilliant white, neatly ironed handkerchief to wipe his hands, as if he’d gotten sauce on his hands during dinner and not spilt an innocent woman’s blood.  
“You two had fun in there?” he asked.  
“Kind of.”  
Frisky’s bloodthirsty grin made Jonathan’s blood boil, but he smirked right back.  
“Have you found anything out?” Roper wanted to know.  
“No, boss. But if you give us another day or two, she’ll snap like a chicken bone.”  
Roper chuckled at that. Jonathan kept his voice carefully controlled when he butted in. “You’ve been saying that for five days, and you’re no further than on day 1.”  
“Sadly, dear Andrew here is right,” Roper said. He patted Jonathan on his shoulder, at the same time jerking his head for his two burly goons to get a move on. “Which is why I have assigned him to take care of the matter. You two can love it up with Corky by the pool or go into town for a drink.”  
He made a shooing motion with his hand, and as always, his right-hand and left-hand men didn’t ask any questions. In a matter of seconds, they had taken off, boasting about how many women they’d pick up tonight in town.  
Losers. Jonathan scowled after them. He’d need to get rid of them eventually, but Corky was much higher up on his list. The man knew something, or at least suspected something. He was dangerous, and Jonathan had learned all too well how to deal with unknown dangers.  
“Andrew.”  
He snapped his attention back to ‘the worst man in the world’, smiling just the tiniest bit.  
“You’ve surprised me more in the past week than I’ve probably been surprised in my whole life. Not sure that’s such a good thing, but I’m willing to take a chance,” Roper said. “Have a go at it and make me proud.”  
He gave the older man a mock salute and cocked an eyebrow. “Just remember what you promised me. Let me do this my way. I’ll have her sing like a nightingale in no time if you give me free reign. If she thinks she’s found an ally in me, she’ll trust me in no time.”  
Roper cocked his eyebrow too. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you? Corky says only fools are so full of themselves. I say, why not admit to confidence if you possess it? Go ahead, I’m giving you green light.”  
Jonathan nodded and took a deep breath. He stepped into the holding cell and let the door close with a heavy, metallic thunk.  
The smell assaulted him first. A gruesome mix of blood, urine, sweat, metal and cigarette smoke. He blinked and breathed through his mouth, letting his eyes adjust to the semi-dark in the tiny, windowless stone cell.  
At the far corner, a shape was curled into a fetus shape barely recognizable as human. The sight tore at his heart, although he’d vowed not to awaken his heart until the mission was finished.  
“Daisy.”  
He called her name softly, in what he hoped was a calm voice that wouldn’t startle her. Still, her head shot up with a whimper, and she pressed herself further into her dark, damp corner.  
Jonathan swallowed hard. The girl was hardly recognizable. What the hell had they done to her, those swines?  
He thought of her beautiful face, fair-skinned with a sprinkling of freckles, huge green eyes framed by endlessly long lashes, a luscious mouth with a perfect cupid’s bow that he’d longed to kiss from the first moment he’d set eyes on her.  
Daisy was the new nanny the Longbournes had hired, and thankfully randy Sandy had kept his hands off her after the fiasco with the former nanny. Young, lithe and naturally graceful, quiet Daisy with her auburn hair, sad eyes and kind smile had seemed incongruent, out of place in their midst. She’d taken care of the children, accompanied Jed on a shopping spree, and made them all exotic drinks one evening by the pool. Apart from that, she’d kept to herself.  
He’d walked in on her several times, inexplicably drawn to her, watching her stealthily. Whenever she wasn’t with the kids, she had her head buried in a book. Her clothes were understated yet elegant, summery and timelessly stylish, making her look even more like a girl than like a young woman of 27.  
He remembered the one evening last week, when he’d danced with her, when they’d swayed and rocked to the music long after everyone else had gone. Her floral scent still lingered with him, invading his dreams. Jasmines, not daisies. Intoxicatingly sweet and slightly mysterious. He’d wondered whether she’d taste as flowery as she smelled, whether beneath the cautious sweetness and melancholy there lurked a sensual woman wanting to be awakened and appreciated.  
Jonathan had fought the urge to go into her room and ravage her for days—until the day when Corky had caught her hacking Roper’s laptop, and all hell had broken loose.  
She’d been in this damned cell ever since, but nothing Corky, Tabby and Frisky had tried so far had yielded any information. Sleep-deprived, half starved, beaten, battered and bruised, Daisy remained as silent as if she’d suddenly gone deaf and mute. If the screams and sobs winding their way through the stone walls were anything to go by, she certainly wasn’t.  
He wondered what secrets she was hiding, what gave her the strength to resist. Was she someone like him, trying to infiltrate the inner circle of the arms dealer hobnobbing with the British elite?  
She stared at him out of one huge, frightened eye, the other swollen half shut from a nasty blow. Pain and anger kicked his gut, triggering a memory of Sophie’s bruised face, of her mauled, lifeless body on the floor of the Cairo suite.  
Jonathan clenched his fists. In three quick strides, he crossed over to her and crouched. He reached out slowly and took her chin tenderly in his hand, although she flinched and her breath hitched.  
“Daisy. Stop worrying. I’ll get you out of here.”  
He kept his voice calm and low and looked her straight in the eyes, ignoring the filth and stench, the horror at the dried blood all over her arms.  
She remained silent, but tears started rolling down her cheeks, streaking through the grime. His gut clenched. Would kindness break her, after all the violence she’d endured?  
“Come on. It’s all over now. You’re safe. Come on. I’ll get you out of here.”  
He kept murmuring reassuring words as he gingerly pulled her to her feet. With a suppressed groan, she collapsed against him. Again blocking out the horror—he’d seen far worse in Iraq—Jonathan scooped her up and carried her out of the cell. She weighed nothing more than a doll, and lay just as limply in his arms, her breathing dangerously shallow, her eyes falling closed.


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan carried her all the way to his cottage, an odd fear making his pulse hammer that he’d lost her, that he’d been too late to save another woman. He briefly closed his eyes against the memories and dug inside him for the resolve he’d built steadily, for the righteous anger.  
He put her down onto a soft couch, not caring a bit about the expensive upholstering getting soiled. Her head lolled back, and her eyes shifted in and out of focus, though she hadn’t completely fainted on him yet. He filled a glass with water and held it to her lips, mumbling encouragement, repeating over and over “You’re safe. Nobody can hurt you now. You’re safe with me.”  
When she didn’t react, he dipped a finger into the cool water and rubbed it across her lips, which thankfully weren’t bruised. Her lips parted, and he dipped his finger into the water again, pushing it a little further in. Suddenly, her mouth clamped around his wet finger, and she suckled softly. The move sent a jolt of need hurtling through him, tugging at his groin. God damn it, this wasn’t the moment to get aroused. For Christ’s sake, she was close to slipping into unconsciousness and he was letting the man inside him get the better of him.  
With gritted teeth, he pulled his fingers out, banishing all thought of that luscious mouth wrapped around something other than his finger. He brought the glass up again, tilted it a bit so a steady trickle of water dripped into her mouth. With a soft moan, she opened her mouth wider and started swallowing.  
“Not so fast,” he whispered, pulling the glass away after a few sips of water. She whimpered again, and the sound did funny things to his already shattered resolve. “More. Please.” Her voice was husky, rough around the edges, and it sent his dirty mind into overdrive.  
For fuck’s sake, he needed to get a grip on himself.  
“Later. Let me take care of you.”  
She opened her eyes fully for the first time, trying hard to focus. She blinked and seemed to recognize him. “Andrew.”  
He smiled, though it probably came out more as a grimace than a reassuring smile. Automatically, he reached for a hand and squeezed. “Yes. You’re with me now. Nothing bad will happen to you again. I promise.”  
A corner of her mouth flickered, as if to curl up in a weak smile. Her eyes really were the most astonishing blue, like the deepest ocean he wanted to drown in. Her lids fluttered again.  
He allowed her another small sip of water before setting the glass down and holding both her hands in his.  
“Daisy, listen to me. Can you think clearly?”  
She tried to focus on him again, her teeth digging into her lush lower lip, making him want to bite it too.  
He lifted one hand to grasp her chin again and leaned closer, speaking urgently. “Listen to me. I’ve told the others a lie. I said I’m only pretending to be your savior so I can get crucial information from you.”  
Her eyes had gone wide again, and her pulse beat frantically at her throat. He wanted to seal his lips over it, wanted to… Damn it all to hell.  
Gritting his teeth, he continued in a heated whisper, “I’m not going to do that. Do you hear me? You’re safe with me. I’ll give you some hours to recover, and then I’ll find a way to get you out of here. Maybe I’ll fake your death, I don’t know. I’ll just come up with another lie and I’ll get you to safety. Do you understand?”  
Her gaze cleared for a moment. She looked so deeply into his eyes that he thought she could see right into his soul. Her mouth curved into a smile so relieved and innocent that it tore his heart right in two. She closed her eyes, the trembling in her limbs growing a little less.  
Jonathan got up from his crouching position, his thoughts all tied up into knots.  
“I’ll run you a bath and then I’ll get you cleaned up and tend to your wounds. Don’t give up on me now, okay. Stay awake. You’re safe now.”  
He had to keep on telling her, telling himself, reassuring them both that this time, he wouldn’t let someone die who had no business being involved in the nefarious, dangerous shit surround Roper and his troupe.  
He turned, but her hand snagged his, her grip surprisingly strong. When he turned to her, she mouthed a “thank you”, and he did his best to smile at her.  
In the bathroom, he thought and thought and thought, unable to come up with a solution to this mess. He should have formed a plan before asking Roper to allow him to intervene, but he’d been so anxious they’d seriously hurt her.  
He ran his hands through his hair, huffing in frustration. If Burr knew what he had gotten himself into, she’d pull him right out and kick his sorry ass.  
Minutes later, he carried Daisy into the lavish bathroom. He lowered her down and she wobbled on her feet.  
“Can you get out of your clothes? Do you need help? I…” He fought to keep his voice steady and his libido down. “I need to check you for injuries, to treat them.”  
Daisy avoided his gaze. She lifted her dirt-streaked and blood-caked dress, wincing and hissing in pain. The movement made her wobble even more, teetering out of balance. Jonathan shot out a steadying arm, pulling her upright and against him. Another jolt of desire raced through him. He could feel her curves against him, wanted to rip off his shirt and trousers, wanted to…  
Bloody hell, he was a bastard, no better than those animals who had done this to her!  
He averted his eyes, a blush creeping up his face.  
“Where are you hurt? Daisy, you need to tell me and let me have a look. If your wounds get infected…”  
“I understand, it’s alright,” she whispered, the huskiness in her voice making me him imagine how she’d sound when aroused.  
He took a step back and kept his gaze on her face, although everything in him wanted to sneak a peek.  
“I’m…” He felt her straighten a little and turn around, his arm still around her bare waist. “They whipped me,” she forced out in a choked voice.  
His eyes shot up and he gasped, seeing the angry red welts on her slender back. She stood with her shoulders stooped, trembling. He reached out gingerly, then pulled his hand back.  
“Can you sit on the tub’s rim? I’ll just clean this and then you should have that bath.”  
She did as told, and he peeled off her bra to get better access to her injured back. Daisy sat motionlessly and soundlessly as he cleaned and disinfected the cuts. She let him turn her around so he could do the same to her swollen eye and to the shallow cuts on her arms.  
His eyes kept wandering to her breasts, stealing furtive glances at the perfectly round globes with their rosy tips.  
Finally, she slipped out of her white panties, sank into the bathtub and leaned back with a drawn-out sigh. He turned away to rein his rampant desire in. For heck’s sake, the last thing she needed now was someone who wanted to fuck her senseless.  
He needed to get out. Now.  
“Andrew?”  
Her tentative voice made him wheel around again, and he caught another eyeful of her pert breasts when she sat up in the water.  
“I… could you… Oh God…”  
She covered her face with her hands, hiding with a groan.  
He was beside her in an instant. “Are you alright? Do you hurt? I’m so sorry, I’ll get you painkillers as soon as you’re clean. I… Is there anything I can do for you to make you feel a little better?”  
Daisy looked at him. “Could you…could you wash me? I feel like my arms weigh a ton, and my hair is a mess, and… Forget it, I’m sorry, I’ll somehow do it myself, I’m a big girl.”  
Fuck it, how much more would he have to resist temptation? With a silent curse, Jonathan rolled his shirt-sleeves up and moved closer.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” He lathered a sponge with lotion and started brushing it over her arms, her shoulders, further down.  
Biting his lip in concentration and thinking of military drills, weapons of mass destruction and complicated arithmetic, he willed his body to shut off. With slow, precise, gentle movements, he washed her whole body, half submerged in the fragrant water. Then he moved behind her and lathered shampoo into her reddish brown hair, washing it until it was squeaky clean and silky in his hands. Her soft sounds of surrender, of relaxation, tugged at him, making him twitch and lose his focus several times.  
Finally, finally, torture was over. He lifted her out and dried her off, once again doing his damnedest not to stare at her. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d seen. Why did they have to meet like this?!  
He wrapped her in a huge, fluffy, white bathrobe reaching her knees. Picking her up and carrying her into his bedroom felt like the most natural thing in the world.  
Pushing all his forbidden thoughts aside, he set her down in a comfortable armchair and ordered food to his room. They sat in silence while waiting for the food, Daisy looking around with a much more alert gaze than before the bath.  
“Did they…did they rape you?” he ground out, unable to keep the question in any longer. She sported relatively few injuries, and he found that odd, fearing the worst.  
Her head snapped round to him, her eyes wide. “No. No, no. They were more superficial in their violence, more methodical. It was more about mental torture than physical.” Even saying so, her hand wandered up to gingerly touch her swollen eye.  
“Thank God.” He breathed a sigh of relief.  
She tilted her head slightly, looking at him. “You really do care, don’t you?”  
“Of course.” He looked back at her, wondering for the umpteenth time what her secret was.  
“Why?”  
He blinked, caught off guard by the simple yet demanding question.  
“I… I don’t know. Something stirred, I suppose, when I saw you and the way they treated you.”  
She continued to look at him, as if he were the most fascinating novel to read and analyze.  
“You’re different,” she said softly, pensively.  
“From whom?”  
She shrugged. “Everybody.”  
A knock at the door interrupted them. Jonathan brought the food in, an assortment of fresh fruits, juice, toast and granola bars. They spent the next few minutes eating in silence, though eating was probably the wrong word. Jonathan pushed his food around on his plate, watching her with eagle eyes while she nibbled on everything slowly, weary of upsetting her stomach but clearly ravenous at the same time.  
She really was recovering well, he thought to himself, downing another glass of cold water to calm down and collect himself. There was the strangest, most alluring mix to her personality, of softness and innocence on the one hand and steely strength and determination on the other hand. The same combination of weakness and power that had attracted him to Sophie.  
At long last, Daisy swallowed the painkillers he’d given her and leaned back.  
“Thank you. Truly.”  
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Now that she didn’t look so feeble and in pain anymore, she was even more tempting. Knowing that she was naked beneath the robe and remembering the way her nipples had pebbled beneath his touch and the way her thighs had quivered when he’d washed her, drove him out of his ever-loving mind.  
“So, no interrogation?” she asked, the hint of a smile on her tired yet beautiful face.  
“No,” he said, surprising himself. He burning with curiosity, so why wasn’t he asking her any questions? He had a feeling she’d willingly answer them because he’d shown her kindness.  
“I have a question,” she said, catching him by surprise again.  
“You do?”  
She nodded, then drank the last of her water glass and licked her lips. Again, she looked him straight in the eyes. “Why are you with him?”  
She spat the last word out, injecting her obvious hate for Roper into the syllable.  
Jonathan rubbed a hand over his face, battling with his jumbled thoughts and feelings.  
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. Let’s just say that I’ll be his end if my plan works out. I know what he’s doing behind the grand and gracious cover, and I’ll make him pay hell for it.”  
Her eyes narrowed, growing dark and fiery. With surprising intensity, she said, “I hope you kill him. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s better if he earns a lifetime of suffering instead of a violent death.”  
He stared at her, curiosity almost getting the better of him. Before he could react in any way, all of her newly found energy seemed to drain right out of her. She stifled a yawn, her lids drooping again. Must be the effect of the strong painkillers.  
He rose. “You need rest. Please use my bed and catch up on all the sleep you lost. It will speed up your healing process if you rest for a while. And it’ll give me time to think of a plan for your escape.”  
She got to her feet, swaying slightly. With an arm around her waist—because it felt so damn right—he steered her to the bed and drew the covers back. Daisy sank onto the bed, her eyes closed, her hands fisted into the sheets.  
Jonathan stood watching her, feeling the oddest need to reach out and brush her hair back from her face, to lie down and hold her close, to soothe her—to make love to her. Jesus, how had he gone from fucking her brains out to wanting to make love to her? He was seriously losing his mind.  
After a few minutes, Daisy curled up on the bed in a fetal position, her lids fluttering and her breathing evening out. Raking his hands through his hair, he watched her for a moment, warring with his demons and desires. With a sigh, he slumped down in the armchair close to the bed, long legs stretched out.  
What a day it had been. And what in God’s name was he supposed to do with her now? Could he wrap her up and carry her out of the compound, pretending she had died from the inflicted torture, making up some fake story about espionage? It would certainly look suspicious, but if he did it right and succeeded, he’d have gained even more of Roper’s trust.  
Jonathan thought it would be impossible to catch a few minutes of shut-eye, but he drifted off into an uneasy state of almost-slumber, his mind still a mess.  
A sound made him start awake. He jumped to his feet, whirling, eyes narrowed, half-fearing they’d come into his room and were going to kill them both.  
The sound came again, a half-groan, half-whimper that tore at his heart strings. He swallowed.  
Daisy lay thrashing on the bed, her head turning from side to side, her hands clenching and unclenching. The robe had come partially untied, showing lots of creamy skin. One slender leg was flung out, one breast peeking from between the white terrycloth, making him instantly hard despite the obvious distress on her face.  
She muttered something, then half-bowed off the bed with a muffled scream. Her hands sought for purchase, and suddenly he heard his name on a helpless plea.  
“Andrew! Please.”  
Her eyes were still closed, and it nearly did him in that even in her state, she was calling for him.  
In two strides, he was on the bed.  
“Daisy. Wake up. Listen to me. It’s only a bad dream. Wake up, you’re safe with me.”  
He curled up next to her on his side, trying at the same time to shake her awake and hold her close. Instinctively, she shifted closer, her hands reaching for him, her nails digging into his arms. Her eyes opened wide on a gasp, then settled on his face.  
He pulled her into a reassuring embrace, whispering her name, stroking his hands up and down her trembling back.  
“It’s alright, it’s alright.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change of POV from Jonathan to Daisy.

Daisy stared, blinking and trying to get her bearings. She remembered pain, confusion, darkness, more pain…and then the first inkling of safety.  
She was pressed against a decidedly male body, all strength and sinew, muscle and musk. Strong arms encircled her, and a soothing motion made her feel better instantly, despite twinges from her injured face and back. More than the painkillers, the bath and the food, his nearness made her relax and will herself to breathe deeply.  
Andrew.  
Like an angel sent from heaven, he’d rescued her, taken care of her. But he was no angel. She knew it, sensed it deep down, as if her dark side had auto-connected to his. Was he with them? Yes, and no. She didn’t know. She did. She didn’t want to know.  
Pressing herself closer, Daisy inhaled and took in his essence. Something very masculine, subtle yet intoxicating, mixed with a hint of the soap and shampoo he’d used on her in the bathroom.  
Her traitorous thoughts wandered to that episode, and her body started tingling all over. How caring he had been. How amazing he’d looked with his wet shirt plastered to his torso.  
God, she had been secretly drooling over Andrew right from the start. When she’d first seen him as she’d climbed out of the jeep with Sandy’s kids, it had felt like a blow to the solar plexus. He’d stood a little back, leaning against the arched stone doorway, his arms and mile-long legs crossed. His biceps had strained against the navy blue suit, and a few open buttons had revealed a tanned chest and a sprinkling of hair.  
His expression had been unreadable, but when their eyes had met, she’d had the feeling he’d seen right into her soul and knew her for who she was. He’d scowled slightly and straightened up, towering over everyone, the sun illuminating him from behind like some freaking movie star. The next moment, he’d smoothed out the frown and smiled. Coming forward, he had extended his hand and welcomed her, pressing a softer-than-soft kiss to the back of her hand.  
He’d been all smiles and scowls ever since, on the outside outgoing and very much one of the bunch, on the inside secretive. He was always watching, lurking, yet also taking initiative and slow initiating all kinds of changes, altering the group dynamics without anyone noticing but her.  
She’d watched him covertly, hiding behind books and barely remembering her task. She’d seen Jed and him eye each other, had felt the current sizzle in the air between them. She’d seen Corky keep watch on him, sometimes suspicious and sometimes jealous. And of course Roper’s eagle eyes didn’t miss a thing. But she noticed more, oh yes.  
The scene of him in the pool, aggressively swimming laps as if he’d never tire in this lifetime, was forever imprinted on her mind.  
Damn it, she was way too attracted to him! She hadn’t been this hot and bothered for years, and it was totally out of the question to give in to the urge. But…  
Andrew moved back a little, interrupting her train of thought and her haze of longing and want. He took her face between his large hands, calloused and strong yet surprisingly gentle.  
“Look at me. It’s alright. Daisy, you’re safe. I’ll get you out of here in a bit, I promise.”  
She stared at him, wanting to memorize the beauty of his face. He was all bones and male grace, with a jawline so sharp it could cut butter, and cheek bones anyone would die for. His eyes were probably his most outstanding feature, if you disregarded the few moments when a genuine smile lighted up his tanned face with the small scar on his forehead. Mostly blue, sometimes grey, sometimes greenish, they seemed to miss nothing and hide a universe inside them.  
Daisy became aware of her bare leg trapped between his powerful thighs, of the ribbed muscles of his abs beneath one of her hands. It reminded her of their dance some days ago, a dance of restrained seduction, of a million unfulfilled desires and dangers.  
Damn it all to hell, she’d take this one chance and make the most of it. She’d rather die than miss this opportunity. And dying wasn’t so far off the mark, even if she stuck by her initial plan…  
Andrew leaned closer, almost as if he felt the pull between them too. His pupils had dilated slightly, and she felt something grow hard against her when she wiggled and rubbed herself against him slowly, like an affectionate cat. Oh yes, she felt like purring. He’d be a magnificent lover, she just knew it.  
“Andrew,” she said breathily, and she felt him shiver. Even in the bathtub, her body had reacted to him stronger than ever before. Despite her innocent façade, she’d had a lot of men, some of them because it was her job, but never had a simple touch or gaze inflamed her so much as with him.  
“What do you need?” he asked. “What can I do to make it better?”  
“Kiss me,” she demanded, fisting her hand in his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Make me forget it all. Show me that I deserve to be treasured, desired, pleasured.”  
His breath hitched and he grew so still he seemed to have frozen into a statue—one of those Greek gods with perfect bodies. With a tortured groan, he leaned forward and captured her lips.  
The kiss was so tender it hurt, somewhere deep inside where she’d buried her heart, breaking something wide open and seeping through the cracks.  
She didn’t want this, didn’t need this. Gentleness would be the death of her, quite literally.  
So, she opened her mouth and licked at his lips, nipped at his bottom lip and pressed herself closer again.  
In a heartbeat, the kiss went from 0 to 100. It was as if she had broken something open inside him too, as if he let loose pent-up desire so strong it would drown them both.  
Their kiss was all teeth and tongues, dueling, playing, coming together like she wanted their bodies to become one. God, the man could kiss. His tongue sought out every corner of her mouth, claimed her, proclaimed her his.  
When they pulled away for a breath, he peppered her jaw with kisses, licked a path to her ear, dipped his tongue inside and then nipped the sensitive spot beneath it. She bucked against him, his formidable erection pressing insistently into her stomach. Oh yes, he was a big boy. All hers to cherish for one moment of forbidden bliss.  
His mouth traveled across her throat, licking, sucking, leaving love bites.  
“Yes,” she hissed. “Mark me. Make me yours.”  
With a primal growl, he scraped his teeth over her collar bone before biting down on her shoulder. Oh yes, so good. She wanted his teeth in her skin, wanted him inside her, wanted to crawl into him and hide there for the rest of her life.  
She moaned when he laved the spot he’d bitten, licking the delicious ache away. The throaty sound of need made him surge against her.  
In the blink of an eye, he had rolled her onto her back and untied the robe. She lifted herself off the bed and shrugged out of it, gloriously naked and shivering under his intense gaze.  
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he ground out. His deep voice had gotten even deeper, and it traveled straight to her center, soaking her through.  
“Show me how beautiful,” she said, raising her hips, arching her back, dying for him to really touch her.  
His eyes were so dark they were nearly black. He clenched his jaw, his hands at his sides, twitching with the need to touch her.  
“You’re a real minx, aren’t you? Sweet and quiet Daisy, you’re no white flower of innocence, you’re some hot-house orchid steeped in sensuality. And you’re all mine.”  
With a growl that made her insides clench with need, he bent to her breasts. His tongue licked the valley in between her breasts, then circled her nipple without touching it. She was panting with need by the time he clamped his mouth over one hardened peak and sucked, hard. Her hips rose off the bed again, and she pleaded for more. Pain and pleasure mingled in the most maddening, wonderful way.  
“So good. Ah… More, please, more…”  
His fingers pinched and rolled the other nipple while he continued to suck, ever so often scraping his teeth over her puckered nipple and sending sparks down to where she was slick with want.  
When he drew back, she whimpered at the loss, clawing at his arms to get him back down. He reached behind him and yanked his shirt off, sending buttons flying across the room.  
Daisy sat up and let her hands roam over his pecs and abs, desperate to touch him. She licked his nipples, bit down on them to hear him hiss and curse. With a string of expletives, he pressed her down into the mattress again and kissed a trail from her breasts down her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her belly button, then peppered her hips with kisses.  
Daisy let her legs fall open, spellbound of the sight of him between them.  
“So fucking sexy,” he growled, and then he made her shout out with his first lick.  
His tongue traveled over her velvety folds, licking her slowly and thoroughly like an ice-cream cone. She fisted her hands in his hair, tugging, pulling him closer, writhing against him.  
“Yes, yes, yes… ohmygod, more!”  
He started eating her out in earnest, digging his tongue deeper, pulling her legs over his shoulders for better access. Finally, finally, he pressed the tip of his tongue against her clit. She arched up on a drawn-out moan, seeing stars. He licked and pressed, circled and dipped, driving her up-up-up.  
“Yes… please… oh God, I’m so close. Pleeeeeeeease!”  
He lifted his head, his gaze dark and so full of desire that she felt like combusting.  
“Say my name. I want to hear you scream my name when you come.”  
He dove back in, stimulating her engorged flesh and making her soar.  
“Andrew! Yes!” she gasped.  
He drew back again, making her want to strangle him. “I’m not Andrew. My name is Jonathan. Jonathan Pine. Say my name, baby, and I’ll make it so good for you you’ll never forget me.”  
Somehow, his words penetrated the haze, and her lips curled in a sensual smile. She stared right into his eyes.  
“Make me come, Jonathan. I’m all yours.”  
With a moan of his own, he dipped his head back down. He sank two fingers into her at the same time he sucked her clit, and Daisy lost it, hurtling over the precipice.  
Shouting and whimpering his name, she came so hard she nearly blacked out. He continued licking her through her climax, bringing her back down with slower licks and kisses and little bites to the insides of her quivering thighs.  
She felt liquid, floating in the ocean, free.  
When she finally opened her eyes, he pulled his fingers out of her and licked her juices off them, holding her gaze. And just like that, she was all riled up again, dying to have him inside her.  
“You taste divine,” he moaned, and her sex clenched with need.  
Somehow finding the strength to move, Daisy sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his trousers. She brushed her fingers over the immense bulge, making him hiss.  
Feverishly, she freed him from the trousers and boxers and he lay down on his back, all glorious male and hers to take.  
“Jonathan,” she whispered, shuddering with the need to have him inside her.  
But…  
He pulled her down for a long, passionate kiss, and she could taste herself on his tongue, amping up her arousal. She pulled away, breathless with desire.  
“Let me give you what you gave me,” she said, pushing him down and straddling him.  
She rubbed herself against his throbbing length, making both of them moan. Her slick heat slipped and slid over him, and it was pure torture.  
She needed to… God, she didn’t know what she needed anymore.  
“Do you trust me?” she asked him, stilling above him, drinking in the sight of him. Pupils blown wide, jaw rigid, muscles corded right, he was a picture perfect of passion.  
“Yes,” he said, and she couldn’t hold back a triumphant smile.  
In a flash, she had reached for the sash that had tied her robe together. Leaning forward, she let her breasts dangle into his face while she grabbed his wrists. He reared up to take a nipple into his mouth, and she nearly forgot what she wanted to do. Moaning and gyrating her hips against him, she somehow managed to tie his wrists together and secure the other end of it against the bed’s headrest.  
He stared up at her, bucking, writhing and sighing but letting her have her way.  
“You’re so incredibly sexy like this,” he ground out.  
“Oh, I’ll show you incredibly sexy,” she said, feeling empowered and emboldened.  
She sidled down and licked his hard length from root to tip, making it bob and grow impossibly harder. Andrew—no, Jonathan—threw his head back and groaned, his heels digging into the mattress.  
Daisy licked the precum from his tip, then sucked his swollen head into her mouth. She worked his shaft with one hand while licking and sucking as much of his impressive cock as she could fit inside her mouth. Hollowing her cheeks, she pushed him to the brink, then let up a little to soothe him, only to stoke the fire again.  
The sounds he made were more animal than human, but with his hands bound, he couldn’t control her.  
God, he was magnificent. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d enjoyed giving a man pleasure so much. She could almost come again just from having him in her mouth and listening to him losing it.  
“D…daisy. Stop. I’m g…going to…”  
His strangled words and another harsh groan when she took him in as far as she could alerted her that he was close.  
In one swift move, she rose and kissed him, their tongues tangling. She lifted herself up and sank down over him, taking him in inch by delicious inch. Jesus, he was huge, filling her up completely. She sank down until he bottomed out and she felt full to bursting. Their joined moan filled the air, and it felt so damn right she never wanted to stop.  
She rose and fell on top of him, riding them into oblivion. Oh, how she wanted to go slow and make it last, but she just couldn’t.  
“Touch yourself for me,” he said, his wrists straining against the bonds. “Show me how you love yourself.”  
Holy shit, could this man get any hotter? She licked two fingers and pressed them down into her sensitive folds, rubbing in circles, panting. His hot gaze seared into her, never leaving her fingers between her legs.  
When her inner muscles clenched in her release, it triggered his, and they flew together.  
Utterly exhausted, Daisy collapsed on top of him, their bodies slick with sweat.  
Slowly, as the afterglow waned, pain returned, and it was her reminder that this wasn’t about her or him but about something much, much bigger.  
Steeling herself, she collected her last ounce of reason and will power to move.  
She looked at him, his lids fluttering while he struggled to stay awake, his face even more handsome now than before. It hurt to look at him… to leave him like this.  
Taking a deep breath, she got up, still completely naked, and walked to the table where they had shared a meal hours ago, in what seemed a different lifetime. She grabbed the knife with which they’d cut the fruits and walked over, holding his gaze and keeping her hand steady.  
Slowly, confusion registered and he frowned and struggled to sit up, tugging at the robe’s sash tying him to the bed.  
“Daisy? What the hell is going on?”  
She forbade herself to tremble, to waver, to give in to this one man who had ever found his way past her defenses.  
“My name is not Daisy,” she said. “Just as yours isn’t Andrew or Thomas or Jack…maybe not even Jonathan.”  
Realization dawned on his face, and he struggled harder, but she was an expert at tying people up.  
Calmly, not betraying the storm raging inside her, she walked over and pressed the knife to his throat, hard enough for him to freeze mid-movement.  
“You tricked me.” His voice was quietly furious, and his stare could have made a lesser mortal drop dead on the spot.  
“I did,” she admitted. “Because I had to.”  
“You…you bitch!”  
She took the insult without flinching. She knew what she had to do.  
“Listen to me,” she said, her voice wobbling once before she got a grip on herself. “I was ordered by Roper to test you, to see whether you’re playing a double game.”  
The first inkling of fear mingled with his fury, but he refused to say anything else.  
“It was all staged, though we agreed they’d have to hurt me a bit in order to trigger a reaction from you. And it worked.”  
But she felt no triumph, only bitterness that her life—and his—had come to this.  
“Why?”  
The one word reached through to her, founds its way through the small chink in her armour that he had caused by simply being himself.  
She closed her eyes for a second, choosing her words carefully.  
“My mother used to work for Roper, travel with him here and there as a maid. I sort of grew up alongside them, though never with them. When I became a young woman and attracted male attention, Roper gave me one choice: Work for him on various special missions or become the shared mistress of the whole group. That choice was easy, though I never liked violence and deceit.”  
She swallowed, the almost imperceptible softening of Jonathan’s look doing funny things to her. “And once I wanted out, I was in too deep. And there’s my mother to think of. She has cancer, and Roper pays for all her treatments and has her looked after while I travel with them and go on undercover missions.”  
He nodded once, very carefully as the knife was still pressed to his jugular. But he didn’t say a word.  
“I…” She broke off, took several deep breaths and pushed the knife a fraction closer so the tip stole a single scarlet drop of blood from his throat. “I will let you off the hook. I’m going to tell them you tried to break me, that you’re just as bad as they are and that there’s no secret I could ever get out of you.”  
She let the knife clatter to the floor and leaned over him, staring deeply into his eyes.  
“But in exchange for the danger I’m putting myself into by lying to the worst man in the world, I ask for one favour.”  
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down convulsively. “Ask.”  
Daisy leaned even closer. “Promise me you’ll see this through and end Roper. You can do it, I know that.”  
Jonathan held her gaze. “I promise.”  
She pressed her mouth to his in a desperate kiss that he reciprocated with the same despair, and she knew she’d never, ever forget this mysterious man who nobody knew and who didn’t truly know himself either.  
“I’ll leave you here. They’ll come for you. And one day, they’ll come for me too.”  
She dressed in the robe, her breathing erratic, sobs blocking up her throat.  
In the doorway, she turned back one last time, drawn by the fierce light in his blue eyes.  
“Good luck.”

THE END


End file.
